Aunt Martha
by chinyemagne
Summary: Helga gains a little respect for her misfit family from a very unlikely source while she discovers a little bit more about herself--the saga continues. Chapter 4 is here!
1. You have a sister?

*The addition of this new character was an idea of my own, although I don't know if anyone else has done this sort of thing. Any resemblance this story and its characters have to anyone else's fan fiction is truly coincidental. So sue me. Oh yeah...and obviously the characters are derived from the Hey Arnold! show, in which all rights are reserved, not to me, but to them. I wouldn't have said this at all, but I notice everybody's got their little disclaimers as a heading to the story, so I figure that a 17-year-old with no money shouldn't get sued, right?  
  
Another note: Anyone who read a previous story that I wrote (The Shadow in my Dreams)...this has NO connection whatsoever with that story. This is totally different...and hopefully better. But if it sucks big time, let me know! :)  
  
Chapter 1: You have a sister?  
  
To say it was a typical day in the Pataki household would be stale, but there is really no other way to put it. Once again, Miriam was slumped over the kitchen counter after an exhausting morning of sleeping through the alarm and forgetting to wake Bob so that he could go to the airport and help Olga with her things. And now, about an hour after the excited conversation between the loving couple had ended, I finally forced myself out of bed, rubbing my eyes in disgust. It was Saturday-the day in which I could sleep in, and once again my dearest paternal blowhard and maternal idiot jolted me awake.  
  
I came downstairs to the smell of hot oil on the stove. Sometimes I swear I don't know what my parents would do without me. I turned off the flame beneath the empty pan and removed it from the eye. I glared at Miriam, who only slightly stirred once I had come downstairs. Remembering that my father would soon return with Olga, and not wanting to be around when Ms. Perfection showed up, I tried to slip out of the house, possibly to Phoebe's or something, before...  
  
"Mom! Helga!" Shoot! Too late. "Mommy, Helga...oh, there you are, baby sister. And where are you going? Don't you want to give your big sister a hug?" Reluctantly, I walked up to Olga, and she embraced me. Ugh, she was so sickeningly sweet, I couldn't stand it. I wiggled out from her embrace, but not in time enough for her to grab my head again, this time nearly suffocating me.  
  
"Um...Olga...I kinda can't breathe here," I hinted. Olga laughed in that annoying way that I hated.  
  
"Oh...well, you're so funny, Helga. Where is Mom, anyway?" she said, although she pretty much knew that Miriam was in the kitchen. Apparently, Miriam had perked up enough to receive her eldest, her favorite.  
  
"Olga, dear...ugh, you won't believe what happened this morning!" Miriam began, as she hugged Olga. This gave me my prime chance for escape, but instead, Olga took hold of my arm and led me to the table where her and Mom sat.  
  
I attempted to protest. "Olga, if you don't mind, I was just about to..."  
  
"Oh, what happened?" Olga continued on, completely ignoring my protest. I sighed, and as Miriam told her idiotic story about the alarm clock, her sleeping in, the conversation with Big Bob (which Olga found quite amusing) I glared from Olga to Miriam. The family resemblance was definitely there, in the three of us. Well, the blond hair part, anyway. Sometimes I wonder who I resemble more, my mother or my father. I really hope it's not my mother, because I don't want to spend the rest of my life with some huge, bulky lummox and a daughter like Olga, while I waste and wither away in an empty kitchen, waiting to catch Zs. That doesn't make Bob's case any better.  
  
And as I stared at the striking resemblance of the contours of my mother's and sister's faces as they laughed, I thought about it more than I ever have or ever will again in my life. Was I really all that much like my father? Was he the only adult in which I could model my future? Or would I have to start myself from scratch? These kind of ideas I should have been able to discuss with Miriam, but she was never awake. Olga...yeah right, like I could ever discuss a thing like this with her. She would ramble on about how cute I was. I swear, everyone in this family still thinks I'm five. In the four times a year I saw her, she would fill up our time together with a bunch of 'I love you baby sister's. And Big Bob...  
  
"Oh yeah, Mom, speaking of which, where is Daddy?" Olga's conversation somehow seeped into mine, and I perked my ears up. Yeah, where was Dad? He should have been entering the house at any minute, cussing up a storm about traffic, or the airport, or because he thought he had missed Olga.  
  
I glared from the kitchen doorway as I heard someone fumbling with the doorknob. Great...I figured Dad was at the door. Excusing myself would give myself the time for the Great Escape out of my house and to Phoebe's for the rest of the weekend. "Mom, Olga, that's probably Dad now," I pointed out.  
  
Olga, pure excitement welling up on her face, clasped her hands together. "Oh, it's Daddy! Here, Helga, let me get the door." I immediately pushed her back down in her seat. She glared at me dubiously as I explained.  
  
"No, Olga, please...you just got off of a flight all the way from Alaska. Rest," I said. "I can get the door, and Bob'll see you soon enough," I reasoned with her. Olga nodded obediently as I slid out of the kitchen. "Sheesh, you'd think she hadn't seen this man in ten odd years," I mumbled under my breath as I walked to the door. Before I could reach it, the doorbell rang. "Yeah, yeah, I hear you loud and clear. Hold on a second, will you!" I said impatiently as I neared the door. I was totally not ready for what was about to happen.  
  
I opened the door expecting to see Bob, but instead there was this...woman. I mean, I'm not the one to stare-often-but there was just something strangely familiar about her. Upon first sight, I remember her as being a fairly slender woman with broad shoulders, medium stature and shoulder length thick, light brown hair. She seemed relatively dark, and she had distinctive facial features. She was wearing a yellow sundress and yellow flip-flops, and she basically was a spectacle-at least she looked like one. And I noticed this all in one glance.  
  
I immediately thought she was one of those door-to-door marketers, and I began to close the door. "Sorry sister, we don't want any, and whoever it is in need, we have to help ourselves first," I said coldly, and I was prepared to close the door until she spoke, and I heard...the voice.  
  
"Whoa, get a load of this. Don't tell me Bob went and had another kid in the time I was gone. Has it been that long..." The striking familiarity I heard in her voice caused me to stop in my tracks, and reopen the door and reexamine exactly who this odd woman was. I opened the door just in time to see Big Bob out of the corner of my eye on the sidewalk...cussing up a storm, just as I had imagined, and with reason, too. The tow truck dropped off our car in our usual parking space...completely totaled.  
  
By this time, Miriam and Olga probably wondered what was taking so long at the door, as I heard their footsteps behind me. The woman, who was still standing at the door, looked at me. "Well, Ponytails, would mind letting me in, or do I have to stand and wait for interrogation?" the woman was obviously being sarcastic. I looked at her quizzically.  
  
"Exactly who are you?" I asked as Miriam appeared behind me. She answered my question for me.  
  
"Oh my Heavens...Martha, is that you?" Mom said, as she squinted and adjusted her glasses.  
  
"In the flesh," the woman, presumably now "Martha," answered. I was immediately crushed between the torsos of the two women as they exchanged a tight embrace. Choked almost twice within the same hour...that doesn't happen much. As they embraced, Bob showed up at the doorway.  
  
"Aw, come on, Martha, we don't have time for all the mushy stuff. We have to get this thing settled now!" Bob was carrying in his hand papers...insurance, I guess.  
  
Martha turned to Dad. "Bob, don't worry about it. I said I'd get your car fixed and pay the balance. I know this guy Mike, across town, s'real good with body and stuff, he can get me deal. No problem," she said nonchalantly. Naturally, I was very curious about the unfolding situation, and after being ignored on several occasions, I just stood back and listened to the chaos. It wasn't until Olga returned from the bathroom that my interest and curiosity were really aroused.  
  
Olga turned into the hallway, and I saw on her the biggest smile I'd seen since...I don't know when. She then bolted into the hallway, and I instinctively moved out of the way. She nearly ran Martha over, if it weren't for the wall. "Oh my Gosh! Oh my Gosh!" she screamed consecutively 10 times. "Oh my...Aunt Martha, where have you been all my life?" Olga then backed away from her and laughed tears of joy streaming from her eyes. Me, I was now utterly confused.  
  
"Aunt Martha?" I wondered out loud, enough for the grown-ups to actually pay a little bit of attention to me. They glared at me, as Olga dabbed her eyes.  
  
Miriam finally returned to her senses. "Oh yeah, Mar, this is our youngest, Helga. She'll be eight..."  
  
"Ten," I interrupted.  
  
"Ten? Oh yeah, ten. She'll be ten this year...but Helga, that means you're nine now," Miriam said.  
  
"Yes Miriam!" I confirmed.  
  
This Aunt Martha person then looked at me, sort of bent to my level, and examined me. She then tilted my head up and to the side. "Oh yeah, this Helga, she's got definite Pataki semblance here," Martha astutely observed. I however, regarded as a specimen, was piqued, because this strange woman, now revealed as my aunt by ominous relation, was examining me like a piece of meat, and I still didn't really know who she was. I flung her hand off of me, and she didn't seem to be too surprised.  
  
"Hold on a second!" I exclaimed. I got the family's attention again. Good. "Before we get into this whole 'family reunion' thing again, I have to know," I turned to Martha. "Who the heck are you and how are you related to me?" I asked, by this time very indignant.  
  
Martha calmly stepped back and chuckled a little. "I see Ponytails packs the Pataki punch, huh?" she whispered to Bob, whose eyes widened at that revelation. "I'm sorry Helga. You see, I'm your aunt, Martha Pataki. I'm your father's kid sister, hun," she said, bending again to my level, I gesture I often hated. But I was too shocked to respond. All of these years, I had never really though of my parents family. Of course there was Miriam's side, but Big Bob? I wouldn't have even known the man had a mother unless I knew it was a biological fact. But, a sister? A "kid" sister. Big Bob has a sister?  
  
"You have a sister?" I exclaimed, looking from face to face in the room, everyone laughing, me suddenly feeling like the butt of a cruel joke carried out too long.  
  
  
*More chapters to come later, but I'm in school and they assume that writing and other means of livelihood are not necessary, and therefore I no longer have a life! So, let me know how you like it so far. Is it too predictable? Well, I know this first part was, fairly, but...I hope it gets better. Let me know! 


	2. Extended Family

Once again, the characters are derived from the Hey Arnold! show, in which all rights are reserved, not to me, but to them. Although...Martha is my own brainchild.  
  
Chapter 2: Extended Family  
  
Apparently I wasn't the only one just a little bit upset about this odd family reunion. I mean, Jeez, you grow up in a house in which you thought you knew for almost ten years and then your whole world is jolted by the entrance of someone new into your reality. Martha frowned a little as the family continued to laugh at my ignorance.  
  
"Well, I for one don't think that the situation is very funny," she finally asserted after a moment of unrest. Whoa...this was different. Someone who actually spoke in my interest. This kind of thing didn't happen very often for me. Martha punched Bob on the shoulder, somewhat playfully but halfway seriously. "Bob, you never told me you had another kid! Good Lord! For all I know, you might have ten more or so hidden in this place," Martha observed, walking from the entranceway to our house to the living room where Bob's big screen TV shrine filled the room. She took the liberty of sitting in Dad's chair, which made him grumble slightly as he stood behind her.  
  
"Crimity, Mar! How did you expect me to tell you anything when half the time I didn't know where the heck you were? All I get from you is postcards with some crappy landmark in the background," Bob protested, as he then scooted Martha out of his chair, quickly taking the vacated seat. Martha narrowed her eyes at him, and Bob gave her a look, somewhat of a childish look, that I never saw him give before. This was all too creepy. It was like a whole different side of my Dad was being revealed by this Martha person. Oh, my "aunt" Martha.  
  
Olga and Miriam soon joined us in the living room, and Olga sat down next to Martha on the couch, while Miriam took her post behind Dad. "Oh Aunty," Olga began, ("Oh Lord," I thought), "I just can't imagine how long its been since the last time I've seen you. I've tried to remember, but I really can't. Do you know the last time you were here?" Olga asked, leaning closer to Martha as she thought.  
  
"Well, since I wasn't aware of Helga being born or anything, and I know I left as soon as I graduated...whoa, that must have been over ten years ago, at most eleven," Martha concluded.  
  
Miriam gasped. "Oh, Mar, I can't believe its been that long. What took you so long to find your way back?"  
  
Martha then waived her hand. "Oh well, Miriam, none of that really matters now. What matters is that I'm finally back...and perhaps for good."  
  
This woke Big Bob up. "For good! Oh, now come on, Martha, let's not get hasty," he said, standing up from his chair. I immediately sat in his abandoned seat, not willing to be left standing but still unsure about the dubious character, Martha.  
  
"Hasty about what, Bob?" Martha asked, also standing.  
  
"I mean, I thought you liked it more, traveling around the country, around the world. You're not ready to settle down yet, are you?" Bob asked, a slight look of concern in his face.  
  
"I don't know about 'settle down' settling down, but..." Martha paused, then gasped and clasped her hands together as if she had just made some major realization. "Oh, Bob...you don't have to worry about me any more. I'm more than just a big girl now, and I've been places you've never been. I think I can make my own decisions now, hmm?" She said, getting close to Dad. I intensely watched my Dad's face contort in no way it had before-some sort of disgusting, soft, worrisome look, like a mother or something. Yuck! "Anyway, Bobby Boy, like I told you eleven years ago, you need to stay out of my business and keep your nose butted up your own...affairs," Martha said, suddenly glancing at me.  
  
"Bobby Boy, huh," I muttered to myself, suddenly finding the entire situation amusing to watch. I scrunched up on Bob's wonderful chair, with my chin rested on my knees, and watched the rest unfold.  
  
Miriam, the keen observer, was the next to add to the brilliant conversation. "Oh my Gosh, Bob, did you see your car?" she said after glancing out of the front window. Olga was the next to follow up, jumping toward the front window where Mom was standing.  
  
"Oh Daddy, whatever happened?" Olga asked, turning to Bob, sincere concern in her face. "The car, it's-it's like, um-it's..." Ugh! Oh Olga, so melodramatic, so quaint, and yet, so aggravating! Try totaled, dear.  
  
"Try totaled, dear," Martha edged sarcastically, joining Miriam and Olga by the window. I don't think anyone heard me for their own gasps, but I probably gasped just as loud. Not for the car, but for the fact that this Martha character took the words right out of my mouth. That's something that doesn't happen every day.  
  
Miriam, who seemed to be slightly out of it, scratched her head. "Well, Gosh Bob, I mean, the car couldn't have just gotten like that, suddenly, I mean, something had to have happened," she said sedately.  
  
"Okay, okay, if you want to force it out of me...crimity! At any rate, I can't tell anything with you women around yappin' it up over here," Bob finally broke his silence. Then, placing his hands behind his back as if he were about to relate some suspenseful, plaintive story, he sulked back to his chair and sat down. I had to roll over the arm of the chair to keep from getting squashed. I scowled at him, but he didn't seem to notice.   
  
"Well, I left early this morning, as you all know, to pick up Olga from the airport. I knew her flight was due in a little after eight, and I didn't want to be late," Bob said, fumbling a pen between his fingers. "So anyway, it wasn't until I got to around 39th street that I noticed that the car next to me was running kind of oddly. I was tempted to just let the car pass, you know, before something went wrong with it, but before I could even do that much, the car's tire blew, 'cabluey." Big Bob startled me slightly with his illustration with his hands and loud sound affects. Then he continued, "That's when the car went out of control. I was startled and my reflexes caused me to kind of swerve out of the way. I was doing about 45 when I swerved, so I was basically spinning."  
  
Martha stepped in. "Yeah, and at the end of that spin you mowed down a tree before hitting a telephone pole," she relayed.  
  
Bob glared at her, obviously slightly annoyed. "Hey, who's telling the story here, me or you?"  
  
"Well, Bob, considering you were all delusional for a while after the accident, seems as if I'm the one who's more equipped to tell the story, wouldn't you say?" Martha craftily asked. Bob, unable to come up with an equally witty retort, just waved a hand at her, and Martha continued with her intrusion into Dad's story. "So anyway, Bob plowed down a tree and ran into a phone pole. Now, while all of this is happening, there's about a five-car pile-up behind him and my car was the one whose tire blew. I was able to stop safely before after the tire blew, but the cars around me all sort of swerved off the street, and into a pile behind me. So, I got out and went to see if anyone needed help."  
  
Miriam and Olga had been rapt in the story from the start, but from Martha's style of narration, I myself began to get into the story. While Mom and Olga may have gasped in suspense and horror, I chuckled about the situation to myself, seeing the absurdity of the happenings falling into place slowly.  
  
Martha continued. "I went immediately to Bob's car, of course before knowing that it was Bob in there. But, I had this sinking feeling as I ran towards the car with my First Aid kit. Not only did the car look uncannily familiar, but I heard a familiar voice mumbling beneath the twisted metal." Yeah, our car was pretty distinguishable. It was the only car in the city that would be able to sport the bumper sticker "Proud Parent of Olga Pataki" to the rear bumper.  
  
Bob interrupted. "Did you know it was me all along, or did it take some time to figure it out?" he asked.  
  
"Well, it was pretty obvious when I heard you shouting from the car-you still have the most creative strains of profanity than anyone I've ever known," Martha replied, half jokingly, half seriously. What was this, a pattern with her? This woman had a serious ambiguity issue. Usually I'm able to sum people up in one sentence, but her-I could never tell from which direction she would come, and where she would go. I saw that much more, later. Anyway, I'm not supposed to be foreshadowing here, back to the story. "Besides, I figured your car would be the only one in the city to sport the 'Proud Parent of Olga Pataki' bumper sticker." Dang, there she goes again. It was like she was reading my mind or something.  
  
Big Bob suddenly became interested in this part of the story. "Oh yeah...what was I saying?" he asked.  
  
Martha glanced at me before responding. "Please, Bob, in front of the girl?" she said, pointing to me. I growled under my breath...I HATE when people do that, minimize me like I'm some sort of child or something. Okay, so technically I am, but I feel I'm so much more than that. Ugh. Anyway, Martha goes on. "Anyway, so some astute person calls 911, because there was absolutely no way Bob was getting out of that car without the Jaws of Life. And by the time they arrived and plied him out of the wreckage, and he got a little air, he was back to being the Bob I always knew...wondering if his insurance would cover the accident," Martha said with slight contempt in her voice, before smirking and chuckling briefly, flatly. Yeah, that was Dad all right.  
  
By this time, Olga and Miriam were to concerned to keep quiet and listen any longer. "Oh my Gosh, Daddy, you could have been killed! Did you go to the hospital or something to make sure everything was in place?" Olga said, clasping her hands together before running to Dad's side and giving him a concerned hug. Tears were almost welling up in her eyes. Sheesh, it's obvious Dad's all right, Olga, he's sitting right before you.  
  
"Well, it's obvious he's all right, he's sitting right before you," Martha said. Ooh, I wish she'd stop doing that. "Yeah, so, I was feeling guilty, so I made sure he got to the hospital okay, and I was about to leave when he insisted that I stay and come back to the house with him. I said, 'What, to see the family,' and he says, 'No, to get the insurance thing settled," she giggled slightly, although she found that Olga and Miriam were no longer paying attention to her.  
  
This time, it was Miriam's turn to recite a little concerned spiel. "Oh B, are you sure your okay? What did the doctors say?" As soon as she saw she was being ignored, I could see that Martha was slightly taken aback, and she bit her lip and she looked at the scene, backing away from us, slowly.  
  
"Well, the doctors said..." she began, before letting her voice trail off as Bob finished the rest of the story.  
  
"Well," Dad began, "the doctors said that beside being knocked around a little, I seemed perfectly healthy. They told me to come back for a few checkups, you know, keep me under surveillance if any side affects would suddenly become visible." (Click). I heard it, over Bob's loud narrative. The front door gently closed. I left the rest of my family alone, knowing that they would be quite contempt left in their own company. I mean, it was Olga who they had long been waiting for. I walked away from them, while hearing Dad recount the accident and hearing Olga and Mom practically give him the third degree about his condition.  
  
Before I was completely out of the door, I heard Mom say, "Alright then, B, we'll make sure you make a weekly visit to Dr. Stilson, starting with one tomorrow," Mom said, sounding the most assertive I had ever heard her since she took over at Big Bob's Beeper Emporium a few weeks ago.  
  
"Awe Crimity, Miriam, do you have too..." I closed the door. I looked in both directions to see where Martha had gone to, and then I spotted her. She was waiting at the corner for the city bus. Wanting to catch up with her before she left, I ran towards her direction. It was the strangest thing I ever felt, while running to her. I mean, what was I doing? Sure she was family, but so were Bob and Miriam...it didn't mean she meant anything to me any more than they did, or I to them. But...for some reason I felt I had to pursue her, this strange Martha person who came to my door with my last name. I finally caught up to her at the bus stop, and she looked all but surprised to see me.  
  
She spoke first. "I'm sorry I had to leave so abruptly, Helga, but I had to get out of there," she said quickly, as if she had been waiting to give this revelation to the first person who accompanied her at the bus stop. I nodded.  
  
"Yeah, I know what you mean," I mumbled, as I chuckled briefly, flatly. Much the same way Martha had done earlier, unintentionally.  
  
Martha then suddenly became aware of who I was, connecting me to the people I had left in the house. "Gee, did that come out as bad as I thought it did?" she said, looking at me. I shrugged. "What I meant was that I had my car towed down to get the tire fixed...well, the tires changed, and I really need to go back and check it, you know what I mean?" At that point, the bus pulled up, and Martha proceeded up the steps. I followed close behind her.  
  
"Uh-huh, I know what you mean," I replied, pausing as I paid the bus fare before sitting next to Martha in the front seats of the bus. "And there's no need for excuses," I said, raising my eyebrow. Martha raised her eyebrow in much the same way that I had. We both noticed this, and we briefly looked away from each other. When the bus started moving again, she glared back at me, seeing I was really following her.  
  
"Look Helga, don't you think you outta go back home? I mean, your parents and sister are probably wondering where you are about now," she said hurriedly, as if she was trying to get rid of me or something.  
  
I shrugged. "Maybe they are, maybe they're not. It depends. But for the most part, they don't care what I do. As long as I don't get myself into any trouble that would prompt a police interrogation, I come and go as I please." With this comment, Martha eyed me with more interest. I suddenly got defensive, like I had earlier. "But I'm not saying their neglectful or anything...they just prefer the more 'liberal' style of parenting, 's all," I said.  
  
Martha then abandoned her brooding look and smirked at me. "Yeah, I get it. Like you said, no need for excuses, right?" Ooh, she got me. "I guess I might as well say this to you, since I can't really tell anyone else, and I don't know you well enough to keep secrets," she began.  
  
I began to get suspicious. "Whoa, slow down, sister! You wouldn't be thinking of spilling your guts to me, would you? That's about where I'd have to draw the line. I mean, crimity, I'm only nine-years-old, with problems of my own without hearing yours. Anyway, I barely know you!" I jeered, feeling the need to assert myself. Martha's smirk quickly faded into a low scowl.  
  
"Hold up, Ponytails, I know you're not trying to act like you don't find interest in what I'm about to say. I mean, jeez, you followed me onto the bus for a reason," Martha spat back. I was a bit surprised by this, and fell silent. "Do you want to hear what I have to say or don't you? You know you could get off at the next stop and walk back home." I glared at Martha and grumbled before I could find the words to express what I wanted to say.  
  
Ugh. "Alright, alright, MARTHA! Since you forced me into it...what've you got to say?" I sneered.  
  
She didn't hold back at all. "It's them. It's your family, Helga. I mean, crimity, I have never met a group of people who haven't changed in such a long period of time. Bob's still a big, petty, stubborn old mule of a man. Miriam's still indecisive-potential's there, but it's like she lives in a continual hangover from her wedding night. And Olga is still all out conformist, moralistic smart ass...no offense." By the end of her spiel, she had gotten quite passionate, and she covered her mouth at her last sentence. Whoa, talk about bottled up emotions. "Yeah, I know what you're thinking. These feeling have been bottled up for quite some time."  
  
Okay, that was it. "Listen, Martha, I don't know how much longer I can stand this. Everything I think, you say. What is up with this? Are you really my aunt, or some sort of psychic weirdo coming to screw up somebody's life for them?"  
  
I think this was the icebreaker for us, as Martha began to laugh. I mean, outright. I just stared at her and observed her every move as she did this, and she went on. "You know, Helga, I was thinking the very same thing the first time I met you."  
  
I was confused. "What, you mean the psychic part?"  
  
"No, duh!" she growled, shaking her head. "I mean, the being your aunt part. I mean, your existence is nothing I had ever imagined in my life before, you know, and you kind of took me off guard. I didn't expect to see you, a whole person who grew up in a reality outside mine."  
  
I huffed as I sat back further in the seat. "Ha, you're telling me." She took the words right out of my mouth. She continued on, looking at the ceiling at the bus, as if contemplating the whole situation in her head.  
  
"And I mean, I can pretty much sum up Bobby...I mean, Bob, and Miriam, Olga...anyone I've just met in one sentence, but, I can't figure you out," she said, looking down at me. I looked up at her, and we stared at each other for a while. While I stared, I finally made the connection. I finally figured out what was so strange about her. I mean, the way the hair hung on her shoulders, much like mine when it was down. The way her nose scrunched with most of her expressions, much like mine had. From her ears to her forehead...excluding her eyes, which were much narrower than my own...she had my face. Whenever she spoke, I realized that she had my voice. Or, more appropriately, much of these qualities that I claimed as my own were hers first, as if I had appropriated them for my own appearance.  
  
I began to wonder how strange it must be for her, to come to her brother's house and see a little girl that she felt she had seen before, or heard before. It upset me enough, and then, I was still coming to terms with it. Apparently, she had been brooding at the same time, because we were both silent for a while. And when I glanced back up at her, all of a sudden I was anxious...anxious to see what else I had in common with this complete stranger, this relative...this Martha. Not knowing where she was going or how long she was going to stay, I determined in my mind that I was going to find that out sooner than later...preferably before she disappeared again. Hey, speaking of which, where were we going?  
  
"Wait Martha...do you know where you're going?" I asked suddenly, as the bus continued to bump along the city street.  
  
Martha laughed. "Sure I do!" she assured me. "The shops this way...I said I needed to pick up my car, and I will. After that, I'll drive you back home, unless you have some engagement already set up, what with you're 'liberal' parents and all," I smirked at that comment, and instantly we knew we had warmed up to each other.  
  
"Are you going to stop in and say goodbye before you go?" I asked.  
  
She shook her head. "Of course not! Formal good-byes are quite unnecessary until a person's really ready to leave. Anyway, I think I'll have to get a good night's sleep before I try to go back into that house again. I mean, after almost eleven years, its something you have to warm up to." She looked at me and smiled, this time genuinely. I returned this smile, and I knew Martha was staying...for a while, anyway. Relaxed finally, I looked out the window.  
  
"Um...Martha..."  
  
"What?"  
  
"What shop were you planning to go to?"   
  
"Mike's Auto. Why?"  
  
"Well, we've just passed it," I said, pointing out the window as the image of Mike's Auto sped past us as the bus continued on.   
  
"Well crimity, girl, why didn't you tell me sooner," she said, as the bus continued to roll down the street, screeching to a stop at the next stop.  
  
*No, this is not an end, this is just a beginning. The beginning of another chapter I'll write in a few days. Let me know what you think. 


	3. In the Blink of an Eye

Okay, I know I have homework I should be doing, but I am bored early this morning, so I want to get in another chapter of "Aunt Martha" before school starts again Monday. So...once again, I do not own Hey Arnold! nor am I a hired writer who had permission to exhibit her works on fanfiction.net, but I would like to pretend that I were both. Hope ya like it!  
  
Chapter 3: In the Blink of an Eye  
  
About a week had gone by since Martha dropped me off back at my house and promptly sped off. And that had been a Sunday. Well, then, more than a week had gone by, because it was then Monday afternoon. Olga's momentary break had ended, and she was back to student teaching in Alaska. After Olga was out of my hair, I began to wonder if my estranged "aunt's" existence had been in fact real, or if she was a figment of my imagination. Or some type of mass hysteria, since Olga, Bob, Miriam and that guy Mike at the shop had all seen her, too. Or maybe she was some odd entity, sent down by divine intervention. Well, scratch that, this woman certainly was no angel. But, could she be the devil from...nah, that doesn't seem right, either.  
  
So anyway, all of these thoughts were going through my mind as I boarded the bus home. As usual, I sat next to Phoebe in the center of the bus, nearly across he isle way from Arnold and Gerald. Phoebe was reading this novel or something, and she was very much into it, and whenever I spoke to her, she would just nod absentmindedly or mutter a "uh-huh," or "sure," or "uh-uh." So, I crossed my arms and fell into my perpetual scowl...that had become so normal for me. As I sank smaller into my seat, I stole glances at Arnold as he talked and laughed with Gerald.  
  
I sighed, and thought to myself, "Oh, my love, every day is a continuing saga, an everlasting journey, adventure into the depths of time, to a point in time when you will understand what I have for so long grieved to keep secret. And yet, why should I keep secret the one emotion that I celebrate in my heart, the notion that someday you and I will be bond, eternally, in the arms of love. But, why should I keep secret the only aspect of myself inherently beautiful, but, when do you allow me, or do I allow myself, the chance occasion to reveal that which I have concealed." From the depths of my though, I noticed we were about to turn the corner onto my street, and I sighed. Phoebe looked up from her book at me, but seeing that I was just in one of my spells, she went back to her book. "It will be one day, my dearest Arnold, one day you shall no the truth, and I pray that you will rejoice in that day as I plan to. But for now, the saga comes to a halt, and once again I am forced into a world far from yours, separate from yours, into the depths of agony and despair. Ah, I await the bus ride to school come the morning, in which the blocks that separate us are narrowed into mere seats, as we are now. But for now, my bus stop awaits me."  
  
I noticed the bus slow down somewhat before it passed my house to my stop. I snapped out of my musing and looked up to see what was going on. What I saw next I could have never imagined.  
  
No one really noticed what was going on until I screamed. Phoebe looked up from her book with such a force that her glasses nearly dropped from here head. Arnold and Gerald bumped heads as the stood up to see what everyone was looking at. Harold accidentally swallowed a whole Mr. Nutty Bar with my scream, Rhonda stopped looking in the mirror at herself, Sid returned my scream, and Eugene fell out of his seat. 'I'm okay.' Everyone was looking now, and the bus stopped before my house. I immediately ran to the front of the bus, not noticing as several books dropped from out of my backpack. Phoebe, as the best friend she always was, was right behind me, picking up the books I had dropped. Soon, a bunch of the other kids who found interest in the situation also left the bus, figuring, I guess that they could walk home after they gawked at the situation. Arnold followed closely behind Phoebe, followed by a protesting Gerald.  
  
I ran off the bus and to the disaster scene that had once been my house. The door had been kicked in, and streams of water were flowing out of the door and down the steps. A fire truck was there, along with a few police cars and an ambulance. We had a fire.  
  
That realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I mean, a fire? Nothing like this had ever happened to me before, happened to my family before. A fire? A tragedy? So many images, so many thoughts began to race through my head. How much of the house had been consumed? Was it major or was it minor? What started it all? Was the house livable? Were we homeless? Would insurance cover it? (Well, that is a reasonable concern, isn't it, albeit à la Big Bob.) Were my poems and my journals gone? Olga's trophies? Where was Miriam?  
  
All of this was going through my mind when Phoebe caught up with me. "Helga, you really have to be more careful," she said as she proceeded to stuff my books back into my backpack, not noticing the stupor that I had just sunken into. "Here, I'll put your stuff back into your backpack for you..." Phoebe trailed off as she noticed I was not responding, and saw the situation at hand. She slapped a hand to her mouth and joined my daze as we watched the firemen withdraw their hoses and leave the house, now dripping.  
  
"Oh God, where's Miriam!" I was suddenly able to say, realizing that my again unemployed mother would have been at home when this happened. Worst case scenario flew through my head, as I saw Miriam dozing in the kitchen much as she was that last Sunday morning, while smothering smoke made its way into her lungs. Without thinking, I leapt towards the house and attempted to go inside. No sooner had I made my move towards the door did some strong force pull me back. It was one of the firemen, grasping me painfully by the arms and dragging me away. In that instance, everything was in slow motion, as he spun me from the scene.  
  
I looked out among the kids from my class that had been concerned (or curious) enough to skip the bus ride to see what was happening. I saw Phoebe mouthing, 'No Helga, no!' as I felt myself struggling with the fireman. My vision began to blur, and when I could no longer read their lips, I realized that I was no longer hearing, either. Everything was in a blur as I was swung around to one of the police cars. I turned to look at the fireman who had grabbed me...I was able to see him almost clearly. 'It's...go-ing...to...be...al-right...little...girl," he said. I frantically looked back to the house, as police investigators entered with their little sniffing dogs, possibly to trace the source of the fire. I was unable to take this slow motion business anymore, so I did what I commonly do in intense situations...I passed out.  
* * * * *  
I woke up only a few minutes later, maybe longer than that, I couldn't tell, save for the way the sun looked slightly different in the sky. The ambulance that had once been there was since gone, as was the fire truck, and all but two of the police cars. I noticed the front door and a couple of the second floor windows boarded up, and the yellow police tape was removed from the area surrounding my house. I awoke with a start and an intense pain in my shoulders. I then realized that the fireman had tried to restrain me before I passed out. I sat up abruptly, and found myself in the back seat of a police car, the windows open for ventilation. I scanned the scene. Well, it seems as if everyone had since gone, and only a few gawkers lingered as they passed by my house and watched as the police spoke on their dispatcher's radios.  
  
"Helga, you okay, kido?" I heard from the other window. Startled, I bumped my head on the roof of the car, before I turned around. It was Martha.  
  
I rubbed my head. "Well, I was," I sneered. Then, the panic that had caused me to pass out suddenly flooded back into my all at once, and I was instantly terrified again. I know Martha read it in my face, and she then opened the door and sat next to me. I unintentionally fell into her arms and started crying. "Oh, why did this have to happen? Why? I mean, I didn't even get a chance to come to terms with her, and what's Bob going to do? Everything, all of our dreams, any moments happiness, gone up in smoke! How could this happen?" I cried hysterically, burying my head into my hands.  
  
Martha, not moved by this display of emotion, raised my face and slapped me lightly. "Snap out of it, Helga. Now, calm down and just listen for a second, okay?" Slightly surprised, I nodded. "Okay, well obviously you know there was a fire. First of all, Miriam's okay. Well, initially she wasn't...she suffered a little smoke inhalation and a few minor first degree burns from the heat, but she'll be fine. They've got her up at the ER, and they're treating her for the inhalation. I called, and she gained consciousness a few minutes ago."  
  
I swallowed and nodded. "Well, does Dad know..."  
  
"Well, I called Bob at the beeper place, and this guy informed me that he was at his weekly doctors appointment. I called the doctor's and they had just transported him to the ER. Apparently, he got more shook up from the accident than they thought, and they scheduled him for a CAT scan soon. I couldn't speak with him then, but they said they'd relay the message of the fire to him. Anyway, Miriam could be in intensive care for a few days, and Bob has a few overnighters of surveillance in the trauma unit before he gets released," Martha said, staring off into space.  
  
Now completely snapped out of any horror that had previously consumed me, I looked back at the partially boarded up house. "So, what happened? Do you know how bad it is in there?" I asked.  
  
Martha sighed. "Oh, it's not so bad, I mean, relatively speaking, it could have been much worse. The kitchen is totally destroyed, and some of the inner walls around it were burned away. The living room is still pretty much in tact, amazingly, except for a thick layer of smoke over everything and water damage. The fire traveled to a few of the rooms upstairs through the floor, but the fire fighters were able to get to that before any major damage was sustained. They just had to break through the windows...that's why those windows are boarded up. Everything in the house, except for a few rooms on the third floor, suffered smoke damage, and a few of the rooms, water damage. But, the house is still definitely unlivable until the damages are repaired," Martha concluded.  
  
"But, how in the world did the fire start? It was electrical, because Bob gets the wiring checked so often...it's like he's paranoid or something," I recalled.  
  
Martha nodded. "Yeah, well, the investigators said that it must have begun in the kitchen, maybe something left on the stove or something." Instantly, my mind flashed back to that Sunday morning, when I had to turn off the eye from under a pot of hot oil while Miriam dozed. If she had done it before... "Well, Helga, I guess since you're awake and everything, nothing seems to be wrong with you, I guess we'd better be on our way," Martha interrupted my thoughts, as she opened her side of the door and stepped out. I crawled out of the police car and shut the door behind her. I found that when I stood I felt kind of dizzy, like I could go out of it again if I wasn't careful. I balanced myself and stepped carefully towards where I saw Martha's car. Martha wasn't there, though, and beckoned me towards where she was speaking to one of the policemen. I turned carefully, feeling my head reel with a false step, and I walked towards her.  
  
Upon seeing me, the policeman smiled. "Where, there's the little lady who all gave us quite a scare. Are you feeling all better now?" He said, stooping to my level. Although I hate when adults do that, I played along.  
  
"Oh sure, Mr., and I'd feel even better if you would get out of my face, sir," I edged. Slightly surprised, he stood up and cleared his throat. Martha was smirking at the guy.  
  
"There now, you said you needed proof that the girl was alright, and here she is, back to her normal self. Now, we really must be going," she said, hurrying me along. I kept my balance as my head spun violently.  
  
The guy from the back nodded as we approached the car. "Yeah, well, if you need anything, anything at all, just let me know. I put my number in the girl's backpack!" he yelled, his final attempt before Martha closed the door on her side and we sped off. Sitting comfortably again, I soon forgot my headache.  
  
"Gee, what a moron, what a scumbag," I remarked as I watched my house get smaller and smaller behind me, until we abruptly turned the corner.  
  
Martha chuckled. "Yeah, tell me about it." There was a moment of silence as she sped along the street before she remembered what she had wanted to say. "Oh yeah, I managed to get somebody to get you a few changes of clothes from your room, and a few of your little books to keep you occupied, but I have a feeling we'll need to go shopping, anyway," Martha said. Little books, huh? I wondered which "little books" she was talking about.  
  
"Oh no," I thought to myself. "Could it be...could she be referring to...my little pink book, and those similar to it. That in which I keep my secret upon secret unrevealed about...Arnold? These things were clearly not meant for the public, not yet at least. Not ready to be released, for I am not emotionally prepared to face the possible consequences that this revelation could wreak. And I'm certainly not ready for Martha to read them," I thought frantically to myself, my teeth clenched nervously.  
  
Martha looked at me from behind the wheel, sensing my nervousness. She laughed out loud. "Oh, don't worry, dear, I didn't read any of them." I exhaled briefly. Whoa, that was close. "Anyway, you'll be staying at my place for a while, at least until Bob gets out or is able to think things through. I live in an apartment a little ways from here. They've got a bus that goes to your school, and one of you're little friends informed me you go to PS 118, is that right?"  
  
"Yeah, that's right." I said. I instantly wondered which of my "little friends" had said that. I figured it must have been Phoebe, she who has never abandoned me since we became friends. To think of Phoebe was a comforting thought.  
  
Martha nodded. "Okay, so like I said, I live in an apartment. It's not so roomy, but it's modest, you know. I've got two bedrooms, on that I use for my office, two bathrooms, a living room and a kitchen. I also have lots of stuff that lives with me, so I'll probably have to make space for you," she said. I was half listening, half not listening, as she took a familiar route to her apartment. I recognized where she was going, but at the time, I didn't make the connection. "Oh yeah, and when we get there, your friend Phoebe wants you to call her, but I told her that it depends on whether you need your rest or not. Then she says something like she understands the trauma that such a trying event could harbor or something. She's a pretty brainy kid from what I gather," Martha chuckled.  
  
Okay, so Martha knows Phoebe. Then who was the "little friend" who Martha referred to earlier. I wondered, as we pulled up to the last street, and she slowed down to the old building where I presumed her apartment was. "Oh yeah, and you little friend I referred to earlier, he wants to know if you were okay, too." He? "Some kid with a weird shaped head, kinda looked like a sideways football to me..." Martha recounted, amusing herself with her own descriptions.  
  
"Arnold!" I finally came to the realization. Not only that it was Arnold who she was referring to, but that her apartment was almost directly behind Sunset Arms, Arnold's boarding house. I was clearly not prepared for this situation. So close to my love, and yet, so far from ever achieving what I had always hoped to...telling him exactly what I felt. But now, I would be forced into so many uncomfortable situations in which Arnold would either begin to like me, or hate me. I felt myself feel light again, as the car came to a stop in a small hooded garage next to the building.  
  
Martha nodded. "Yeah, yeah, that's who he said he was. Anyway, I assume you know his phone number, because he didn't give it to me or anything, or you can just tell him tomorrow I assume." She put on the parking break and brought the car to a stop. "Okay, here we are," she said, as my head began to physically spin now. "Oh yeah, and who is that guy who hangs out with him, he's got tall hair and..." Martha looked at me just in time to see me faint, yet again. I heard her sigh before my hearing went out again. "Okay, that's it. No phone for you. You are going straight to bed! 'But I'm fine, Martha.' Crimity..."  
* * * * *  
Instead of just passing out, I must have fallen asleep, because I remember waking up. Whoa, twice in one day...this had to be a record. At any rate, I woke up in utter darkness, and for some reason I was instantly afraid. I mean, that wasn't like me to be afraid for no good reason. Mainly, I was disoriented, not knowing what the inside of Martha's place looked like at all. I felt around the bed to find that it was a Standard, larger than my own twin at...home. Then, I suddenly remembered all that had happened that day, with the fire, and the intense fear, passing out twice...and I still had math homework! All of this just made me laugh.  
  
I don't know why...it shouldn't have been funny at all. But, it was all so ridiculous. The three of us, Miriam, Bob and I, unconscious probably at three places at once, for different reasons. And, my house had been burnt, and Lord knew when I'd be back. And, after all was said and done, here I was, at my supposed aunt's house, just a few yards away from the house of my beloved, closer than I had ever lived to him before. This all had to be unreal. It was like, some goofy movie or something, as if my life were a play and someone was manipulating the script.  
  
I would have laughed out loud, if it hadn't been for Martha opening the door, letting light shine in. I didn't really feel like talking or anything, so I pretended to be asleep. I closed my eyes and made sure not to stir as she walked towards my bed. I heard her put something, sounded like a cup or a mug, on the bed stand besides me, and then she sat on the side of my bed. Then, her face got incredibly close to my own. Startled, not knowing what she was doing, I flinched.  
  
"Ah-ha! I knew you were just faking being asleep," Martha said, moving away from me. Knowing I had been caught, I opened my eyes wide and adjusted to the light that Martha had turned on in the room. "You can't fool me, Helga G. I've pulled all the stunts you have and more in my day. Plus, I heard you laughing in here...what so funny, anyway," she asked, stirring whatever it was in the mug on the nightstand.  
  
I shrugged, half-heartedly. I found that the sleep had been sweet, and I really didn't want to wake up. "I could've just been laughing in my sleep, for all you know," I said, struggling to sit up in bed.  
  
Martha chuckled. "Whatever you say, Helga, whatever you say," she said, picking up the mug. "Here, I just made this, and I thought maybe you'd like a taste or something," she said, handing me the mug. I looked at it, suspiciously, and I held it too my nose. It did not smell like anything. I didn't know what to expect...was this some type of weird home remedy, some type of poising?  
  
"No, I'm not trying to poison you, and I'm not into all of that home remedy stuff. Just try it, tell me what you think," she said, smiling warmly instead of smirking. Somehow, she won my trust quickly, and I brought the mug to my lips and drank. I nearly choked after I noticed I had taken too big of a sip. That was the spiciest apple cinnamon tea I had ever tasted, but it tasted quite good, actually. Martha looked startled as I choked, so I made sure I reassured her.  
  
"No, no, I'm fine really," I muttered between coughs. "Just took a little too much in, that's all. What's in this stuff, anyway? Alcohol?" I asked. I knew that ran in the family, at least on Mom's side, but I didn't know about Dads.  
  
Martha shook her head. "Of course not, I wouldn't be giving it to a kid, would I?" she said, smirking at me. I knew then that she knew I hated that, to be treated like a juvenile. I knew she was just taunting me now. "Besides, wouldn't I be taking all the fun out of your first high school party, wouldn't I?" she laughed, punching me playfully in the side. It was hard, but I took it, knowing that to crumble under it would be out of character for me. But, it kind of hurt. I covered up the need to yelp under pain with a laugh, and we laughed together for a while. "Anyway, it's a family secret, and if you would be quiet and listen for my little spiel, I'll let you know what's in it, and I'll sort of, like, you know...pass it down to you," she said, grinning as she did.  
  
Whoa. This was a surprise. "Sort of like an heirloom?" I asked her.  
  
"Sure, why not," she replied, shrugging. She then adjusted herself on the bed, making herself more comfortable, and she began to tell the story. I can't remember exactly how she told it, but it was about how when she was my age, her mother passed down to her the secret recipe that had been passed down for generations. It was a story I would have normally regarded as stupid, long and tiring, but somehow now it interested me, because the woman in the story was my grandmother...someone I never hear about, ever, even now. Martha and I, we must have stayed up way past my normal bedtime, her talking about a bunch of stuff she remembered as a kid, and me just eating every word up. I did not know then how many nights I would spend, sitting on this very bed, talking to my aunt Martha, or how many more weeks I would spend in the house. I did not know that day, riding home on the bus from school with Phoebe not listening as she read her novel, with Arnold and Gerald yacking it up as usual, bumping along the road, that within a split second, the blink of an eye, my old world would be burned. Burned, and cleared for a new world. In the blink of an eye, my whole life changed...for the better.  
  
*But, the question is, how did it change...for the better. De-da-da-daa! De-da-da-daa! De-da-da-daaaaa! Certainly more to come, and I hope its fun! 


	4. Life with Martha

Have you ever wondered if some of the writers of Hey Arnold! cruise these fanfic sites once in a while, looking for the perfect element to a story and bam! they find a plausible story line and use it as their own inspiration? Has anyone actually seen evidence of that? That would be cool if it actually happened. Anyway, enough small talk, I'll cut to the chase. Craig Bartlett created Hey Arnold! and, although I wish that I had thought of it, I did not. So, the assortment of characters, including Arnold, Helga, Phoebe, Gerald, Eugene, Rhonda, Sid, Lila, Lorenzo, Park, Brainy, Miriam, Bob and Olga, and any others I failed to mention that I mentioned, I do not own. I can say, however, that I own Martha, but she's not the type to be sold cheap, so...just kidding. Getting back to the story here...  
  
Chapter 4: Life with Martha  
  
I don't know exactly how long we stayed up then, our first night together. All I knew was that I was exhausted after our long conversation. This was partially because her narratives were so enthralling that I lost track of time, but mainly because Martha's guest room/office did not have an alarm clock, at all! So, after Martha left, after I had finished the tea, I fell into a comfortable sleep, essentially sleeping away any of the remaining anxiety from the afternoon's startling events. The sleep was very refreshing, and I would have continued if I had not been jarred awake by Martha, running into my room, hopping on one foot with one sandal on, one sandal off.  
  
Martha woke me up five minutes before school was supposed to start.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Helga, but I forgot to reset my alarm yesterday, and I just got up at the usual time I need to get to work," she explained, as she threw one of my dresses to me, freshly cleaned, starched and ironed, on my bed, along with some socks, my shoes, and my bow. I hurried myself along, quickly dressing while I made my way to the bathroom. Midway between frantically brushing my teeth, I stopped. Why was I rushing to get to school, anyway? Simmons was just going to be lecturing us about our "uniqueness." I could definitely miss that.  
  
"Hey, Martha," I asked, formulating my plan in my head. "Do you think, since we're so late already, and no doubt the whole school yard knows about the fire, that I could skip with you and maybe see what you do all day," I asked, giving the uninterested, sidestepping approach.   
  
Martha didn't buy that. "Yeah right, like you really want to come to work with me," she said, glaring at me from the corners of her eyes as she relaxed, getting her sandal on and brushing her hair. "Besides, you don't even know what I do, Helga."  
  
Oh yeah, I hadn't thought of that. "Oh yeah, I didn't think of that. What do you do?" I asked, slowing down my pace, slowly rinsing out my mouth with mouthwash.  
  
Martha smirked. "Okay, okay, I'll tell you what I do." She then unexpectedly pulled me from my dress collar, causing me to half swallow the mouthwash, half spit it all over the cabinet. I began to cough. "But first, you go to school, and I'll tell you all about it when you get back," she said, craftily. Man...she had my number all right. That was no fun.  
  
"Jeez, Martha, you trying to choke me here? I nearly swallowed a mouthful of mouthwash!" I protested, as I gathered by books from the floor of the guestroom and stuffed the into my backpack. I hurried after Martha, who was already at the door, ready to leave her apartment.  
  
She waved her hand at me, as if dismissing the whole issue. "Ah, a little mouthwash won't hurt, as long as not ingested in large scales," she said, closing the door behind me as I ran out. She then paused before she locked the door, and looked around. "You got all your books, Helga?"  
  
"Yeah, I think so," I said, pawing through my backpack, trying to kill some more time. Martha was going to go along with it, for a while, until she saw how long I was taking.   
  
"Do you think you could be any slower. Crimity! I have to get to work, you know?" she said, rushing me along and hustling me into the car. I closed my backpack up until I saw a slightly crumbled sheet of paper at the bottom of the backpack. Then I remembered...my math homework! Not that I actually was a braniac or anything, but still, it was the principle of the matter. I don't know what the heck I'm talking about, but somehow I was just compelled to actually complete my math.  
  
Martha was starting up the car when I realized it. "Shoot, I didn't finish my math homework!" I exclaimed, pulling out a pencil and straightening the piece of paper. Martha glanced over at me before backing out of the carport.  
  
"Oh...what type of math is it?" she asked.  
  
I sighed. "Long division...with remainders. And I've got nine problems left. There is no way I'm going to get this done before we get to PS 118," I sighed.  
  
Martha raised an eyebrow, and then shrugged. "Well, I'll see if I can help you. Here, try me. Give me a problem, quick!" Not really knowing what she was driving at, and not knowing whether or not to trust her, I gave her a problem that Mr. Simmons had given as an example.  
  
"Okay then, genius, what's seventy-nine divided by six?" I was sure I had cornered her. My usual experience with adults was that they acted like us kids were dumb, and that they thought that whatever problem we had was easy, and then when they actually tried to tackle it, it was harder than they actually thought. That always happened with math and my Dad. I'd give him one of those story problems, and cabluey! He'd get all mad, turn red in the face, and call me insolent for trying to confuse him. I fully expected Martha to back down and give me space for doing my problems. She surprised me.  
  
"Thirteen remainder one," she stated calmly, shifting the car into the first gear and taking off, before shifting again. I didn't realize until then that she was driving a stick shift.  
  
"What?" I was even fully listening, as I hadn't expected her to actually get it. It was the right answer, too.  
  
"Thirteen remainder one, now, hurry up. I can answer the rest of them for you," she said impatiently, as she sped down the residential street. I looked at the nine problems I had left to do. Well, why not.  
  
"Eighty-two divided by three?"  
  
"Twenty-seven remainder one."  
  
"Two hundred seventy-eight divided by eleven?"  
  
"Let's see, that'd be twenty-five remainder three. That one should have been easy for you, Helga..." she began to explain.  
  
"Five hundred ninety-one divided by fourteen?" I interrupted.  
  
"Um...forty-two remainder...three." As I scribbled down the answers, Aunt Martha began to laugh.  
  
Not knowing what she was laughing about, I glared at her. "Hey, hey, hey...what's so funny over there, anyway?"  
  
She abruptly stopped at a stop sign before answering me. "Oh, nothing about you, Helga...I just remembered a funny story about mouthwash."  
  
I chuckled. "Mouthwash, huh? One hundred forty-seven divided by nine. What about mouthwash?" I asked, as we neared the school.  
  
Martha smiled, and I could tell she was glad to see I was interested. "Sixteen remainder three. Oh, it was something your father did when he was younger. Well obviously, I hope Bob still doesn't do idiotic stuff like that now..."  
  
" One thousand, nine hundred ninety-two divided by eighteen?"  
  
"Whoa...um, one ten remainder twelve," she rattled off. "So anyway, I must have been quite young because Bob was still living in the house, but I still remember it quite vividly..."  
  
"Ninety nine and four?"  
  
"Twenty four remainder three. You could've done that one, too. So yeah, a bunch of Bob's friends were over after the varsity homecoming football game, and Bob threw a party after he scored the winning touchdown."  
  
"Wait, hold on a second. Bob played football? Two hundred ninety-nine divided by sixteen?"  
  
"Eighteen remainder...eleven. Yeah, he did. He held some sort of position other than quarterback...I don't remember which, but anyway, he scored, and Dad made Mom let him throw a party back at the house. He thought he had locked me in the room so I couldn't cause trouble, but I snuck out anyways."  
  
"Three hundred eleven and twenty-five. Ha, that's funny," I said, accidentally dropping my pencil as Martha breaked hard at the intersection, banging my head on the dashboard.  
  
"Oh, sorry about that. Twelve remainder eleven. That really should have been easy for you. So anyway, they must have still be in an adrenaline high from the close game, so they were daring each other to do all sorts of stupid stuff, you know..." she continued, before I interrupted her.  
  
"Last one, last one...eighty-four, divided by seven," I said, rubbing my head as it began to smart. "Wait, I know that one...it's twelve even, no remainder."  
  
Martha nodded. "You'd better get that one," she said, before slowing in front of the school and pulling into the staff parking lot. "Hey, that was ten...I thought you said you had nine?" She pulled into one of the guest parking spots and parked. I watched as she did this. "So anyway, some dumb guy dared your Dad to guzzle mouthwash, and back then, Mom kept a stash of mouthwash because she was so afraid of getting gingivitis," she said, locking the door with her remote key after I closed it. We began walking towards the entrance of the school, and since the school ground was quiet, I knew we were late. "Bob found it, and, I guess he wasn't too much smarter than the other guy because he went along with it. Drank about three and a half bulk sized bottles."  
  
I was halfway listening, as I was still astounded by Martha's ability to just spit out the answers like that. "I can't believe you're able to do all that math stuff in your head. I mean, jeez, you're like some mathematician or something," I stopped abruptly, realizing what she had just said. "Wait a second, let me get this straight. Big Bob, the Big Bob himself, guzzled three and a half bulk bottles of mouthwash?" Martha nodded. "Gross!" I exclaimed, as I walked up the stairs of PS 118. I wondered why Martha was still with me.  
  
"I'll just walk you up to your class to make sure you get excused, if that's alright with you," she said, as we reached the top of the stairs. I shrugged. She lowered the volume of her voice as we entered the school building. "Yeah, so Bob got so sick from the taste that he puked for, like, the rest of the night. When he found out that I found out, he made me swear not to tell, or he would cut off one of my pigtails. Of course, I didn't have to, once my mother found her mouthwash stash had been raided." Martha and I laughed quietly as we walked through the halls of PS 118, towards Mr. Simmons classroom. "Which classroom is yours again, Helga?"  
  
I scanned the hall, momentarily forgetting where I was. "Oh yeah...this one, right here." Okay, this was a major turning point in itself here. First of all, neither of my parents would be caught dead talking to my teachers, because they're not into that "parent involvement" thing. Well, I believe Miriam would be if she wasn't Miriam, but that's a non-issue. So, to have someone, an adult guardian, escort me to class, actually concerned about my education, helping me with my homework and such, this was really different. It was either the fact that I brought Martha with me or the fact that I was essentially beaming that morning that caused everyone in Simmons class to stare.  
  
So, Martha opened the door, and I walked in, interrupting the collection of our math assignment. Everyone paused, and I could hear gossip buzzing around the room. I followed Martha to Mr. Simmons' desk, and I introduced her. "Mr. Simmons, this is my aunt, Martha Pataki. Martha, Mr. Simmons. I'll be staying with her for the next few days...or whatever," I said, realizing I was not so sure when I'd actually be back with my parents again.  
  
Martha then interjected, sticking her hand between in front of me. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Simmons," she said, courteously. This was also different. She was using a distinctive voice, one different from the one she used to tell me about the tea or Dad's mouthwash guzzling. "I don't want to interrupt your class anymore than I already have, but I just wanted to make sure Helga was not marked tardy today. It's more my fault than hers," she explained.   
  
I glanced back at the kids, all staring back at me and Martha, and I began to stand taller. I realized that amongst them, my classmates, I had to maintain an image. I had to show them that Helga G. Pataki could emerge from the rubble of the only home she knew and still be the same person. Plus, I hate when people stare, and looking assertive was the only way to stop it. And it did.  
  
Mr. Simmons folded his hands on his desk and nodded. "Well, Ms. Pataki, I'm sure that it's quite alright, and I understand, under the circumstances, and the necessary adjustments will be made." Martha nodded, and I went to my usual seat, behind Arnold. Martha was heading towards the door when suddenly she turned around, clasping her hand to her mouth.  
  
"Oh, Helga...we forgot your lunch!" I hadn't even noticed it, because Mom forgot so often I had come to rely on whatever money I could scratch up for school lunch. She then waved her hand in that way she had done earlier that morning. "Oh, but never mind, I'll just bring some by during my lunch hour, if that's okay?"  
  
Whoa, pretty good service. "That's fine, Martha. Just make sure it's edible, alright?"  
  
Martha smirked at me. "You're lucky I'm putting up with you, Helga G." She then left. After that little impromptu display to the class, the buzz continued.  
  
  
*Okay, this ended a little abruptly, because it was originally twice as long, but I figured I'd need to split it up so it wouldn't be TOO boring. But, the saga continues...I'll try to spice up the next chapter a little bit more, okay? If not...I'm sorry! 


End file.
